Hold Me
by queen-bess-mccord
Summary: "But there is greater comfort in the substance of silence than in the answer to a question." - Thomas Merton


**A/N** : Hi guys! I've been busy; just started college and I'm currently still adjusting to school so I haven't really had the time to write anything. This fic idea popped into mind yesterday and I managed to finish it while taking breaks from schoolwork. I hope you'll enjoy it! Reviews are highly appreciated ;)

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Her eyes flew wide open, sweat beading on her forehead. Her heart felt like it was pounding out of her chest at a hundred miles per hour. The images flashed vividly in her mind, the awful sounds ringing in her ears.

 _"_ _Abdol!"_

It felt like she was back in Iran, back in that room where gunfire rained relentlessly through the glass windows. _Again._

Her hands trembled as she propped herself up against the headboard. The darkness of the room and blind panic engulfed her. She bit down on her lip, hard, drawing blood as she tried to hold the sobs back; she didn't want to wake Henry up. She had been getting better – the nightmares that constantly plagued her initially were occurring less frequently. But when they returned, they hit her in full force, knocking the breath out of her and sending her into full panic.

Drawing in a shaky breath, she looked around the bedroom for something, _anything_ , to distract her mind and let the episode pass. The digits on her clock stood out starkly against the pitch-black night and she stared at the numbers tick by slowly through the tears forming in her eyes.

 _Twisting around, she felt Fred's limp body pinning her to the ground. His unfocused eyes stared back into hers. No, it can't be happening. He can't be dead. Where's Javani? Did Abdol get out? Where's Abdol? Is he safe? Henry, oh, Henry…_

The haunting images persisted, wrestling her will to force the flashbacks out of her mind. Her breaths came in ragged gasps as she struggled for control. Black spots appeared in her already clouded vision and her hands gripped the sheets tightly, her nails cutting into her palm. This was a fight she wasn't winning.

"Babe? Babe, are you alright?" Henry's voice broke the silence as he woke up after sensing something amiss. He was a light sleeper; an old habit that didn't die from his USMC days.

"Henry," she whimpered. A sob bubbled from her lips, the tears flowing uncontrollably by now.

Alarmed, he sat up to find his wife suffering a panic attack again. It was hard to watch – she was curled into a ball, tears staining her face as she clutched onto the sheets so tightly her knuckles turned white. His heart broke, the helplessness he felt placing a lump in his throat; he wanted to take away her pain and all the horrible memories so, so badly.

He pulled her paralyzed form into his embrace slowly, not wanting to shock her. "Babe, remember to breathe, alright? Remember what Dr Sherman said? Breathe." He took long, deliberate breaths, hoping she would follow suit and calm down.

He rocked her back and forth gently, rubbing his arm down her back as her sobs broke free like water bursting from the dams, reverberating throughout the room. Her fingers kneaded into his shirt, her tears spilling onto the fabric as she cried into his shoulder. He kept uttering words of reassurance, trying to guide her out of a darkness that swallowed her whole. Occasionally, he'd press his lips into her hair, reminding her that she wasn't alone, that he was there with her.

Time passed. Whether it was 15 minutes or an hour, Henry wasn't sure. But he finally felt her breaths slow down and her heartbeats grow steady. "Babe, are you feeling better? Do you want your pills?" he murmured.

Not trusting herself to speak yet, she shook her head. She didn't want to rely on those blasted pills, not when she worked so hard to get off her medication.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Another shake of the head.

"Do you want water, then? Maybe you should drink something—" Henry started shifting her from his embrace and got up.

"Stay. Please," she croaked, her throat raw from crying for so long. Her hands weakly grabbed his, her eyes pleading him.

"Okay." He sat on the bed and pulled her into his arms again, throwing her cardigan over her shoulders to make sure she didn't get a cold. "Are you sure you don't need anything, babe?"

She nodded, feeling her consciousness slip away. "Just hold me."

"Alright. I love you, Elizabeth, more than anything," he whispered, holding her tightly against him.

She nodded once more, succumbing to her exhaustion soon after.


End file.
